


Peace & Quiet

by ThePagemistress



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 07:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10300937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePagemistress/pseuds/ThePagemistress
Summary: Fernando really just wants to vent. But is that what he *needs*?For the dialogue prompt: "Can we go someplace high and jump off it?"





	

Fernando had half expected Jenson to show up in the paddock during testing, just as Nico had done. He’d thought that after 17 years of showing up every March, he’d feel at odds with not doing so again.

It was something of a reality check then when he remained absent. And not just in person either. Fernando didn’t hear hide nor hair from him at all during those two weeks. He’d kept his composure as much as he could in front of the media, only resorting to the occasional snide comment at the end of a long day with barely any running. But he could really have done with being able to rant to someone about how he was really feeling about everything.

He wasn’t sure anyone would understand it quite as well as Jenson. Especially with his mid-2000s Honda grief. But he was reluctant to get in touch and interrupt Jenson’s downtime with matters that no longer concerned him. And so he just wallowed. He wallowed in the lack of mileage, bit his tongue when the car died yet again on track, turned a blind eye to the Ferraris topping the sessions.

Improvement would come.

~*~

Improvement didn’t come.

Weekend after weekend, they were battling with the Saubers and trying to challenge the Renaults and Haas’ in front of them and more often than not coming out the worse for wear. Just when Fernando would start to sink his teeth into a battle either he would be getting the call to respect blue flags for a Williams or his engine would start to protest under the strain and give out.

Tension was at its peak within the managerial team with McLaren and Honda barely seeing eye to eye. Fernando was finding it harder and harder to try not to blow up in front of the media. He was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t have just bowed out at the same time as Jenson and Mark and got a puppy of his own.

Monaco felt like a breath of fresh air. With the engine having less of an impact, it was always going to be one of the tracks that McLaren stood a better chance at. Making it into Q3 had been a boost and one that Fernando had been in dire need of. Getting shunted out of the race at Turn 1 from behind was the final straw.

He didn’t go to the briefings, he only spoke to a couple of media outlets with monosyllabic responses that his former Finnish teammate would have been proud of. He walked straight through the paddock, into the hospitality and shut himself away in his little room.

He sat and stared at the wall, thinking. Meditating. After several moments, his phone buzzed. He gave it a cursory glance out of habit then did a double take at the name.

Jenson was in Monaco this weekend. They’d chatted a bit but it had all felt a bit forced, like they were having to watch what they said around the team.

_“How many ladders did you walk under on your way to the grid, mate?”_

Fernando contemplated just wallowing more in his room until he was forced to make a reappearance. But he was so tired of everything. He needed a change of pace.

_“Let me answer your question with another question._

_Can we go someplace high so we can jump off it?”_

It was a joke. Maybe. Not really. He just needed to feel something that wasn’t abject disappointment and frustration. Something told him that Jenson might be able to give him that. Some texting banter would make him feel a little better, even if just for a short time. He certainly wasn’t expecting the response he got.

_“Meet me outside the casino. Bring your bike.”_

Fernando stared at the message for a moment, perhaps waiting for another text to clarify. He didn’t receive one.

“I didn’t bring my bike,” Fernando text back. Almost immediately, his phone vibrated again.

_“Steal one.”_

Fernando laughed, bemused at what was happening. And just as he seriously began contemplating where he might be able to ‘acquire’ a bike, he received another message.

_“I have been told not to let you steal a bike. I’ll bring two. Move.”_

Fernando wasted no time in heading out of the door, grabbing a plain cap on the way to try and prevent his being stopped by people still making their way around the track.

Sure enough, once he reached the casino, Jenson was standing there grinning back at him, a bike on either side. “Figured you wouldn’t have a helmet either so here,” he said, passing Fernando a bicycle helmet. “Safety first!”

Fernando clipped it on while examining the bike. “Where did you find a second bike? Did _you_ steal it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jenson replied with a grin as he sat himself down. “Come on, get a move on, we’ve got places to jump off of.” And without even waiting for Fernando to properly organise himself, he was already cycling away, heading for the hills.

It didn’t take long for them to get out of all the heavy traffic and become surrounded by trees. Fernando had always found it so strange that for somewhere so synonymous with water and glitz and glamour, it actually had some very nice nature spots.

“Keep up, mate! Your age is showing,” Jenson said, turning his head back to find Fernando lagging behind.

“We cannot all be triathletes like you. I have more important things to train for,” Fernando replied, putting a great amount of effort into not sounding as breathless as he felt, powering his way up yet another incline.

“Excuses, excuses…” Jenson said, speeding up because he can be a bastard like that. Fernando couldn’t help but grin at the challenge.

Eventually, Jenson skidded to a halt, Fernando doing the same just behind him. “Made it! Now, if you’d like to just…take a minute. To stop the waves of nausea.”

“I am quite fine,” Fernando said, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he removed his helmet. “You however, do not look so well.”

“Me? ’m fine,” Jenson said, hands on his knees as he leaned over making noises similar to those of someone with waves of nausea. Fernando considered it something of a win.

He lowered the bike to the floor and made his way over to the cliff edge where they’d found themselves. The view was tough to beat. The ocean expanded as far as the eye could see, the sun glistening on the calm waves. The marina was a hive of activity but they were high enough that the noise barely reached them. Turning around, they were surrounded by trees and the sound of birds and it was just…tranquil.

Without overthinking it or taking too much consideration of what Jenson might say, Fernando decide to sit himself down on the floor, legs crossed and closed his eyes for a moment. He heard Jenson stand next to him and then some shuffling as he joined him on the ground. Fernando let a small smile touch his lips at the gesture and the silence that continued. Jenson’s go-to solution for pretty much everything was to talk. He was good at it and he often talked a lot of sense. But it was nice to know that he could sense when it was time to just…be.

It wasn’t too long - maybe 10, 15 minutes - before Fernando opened his eyes slowly to look back out onto the ocean. He turned to see Jenson watching him, small smile on his own face and Fernando had to fight down a sense of embarrassment. But rather than allow him to feel self-conscious, Jenson just said, “Nice spot, isn’t it.”

“It is. You come here a lot?”

“Not especially. Cycle up here a lot but don’t tend to hang around. It’s a good spot for selfies,” he added, with a grin.

“For sure, it is quite the view. On a day like this, at least.”

“Oh, you’re telling me you don’t get rain in Dubai?”

“There are about four days of rain a year,” Fernando replied.

Jenson gaped at him. “I don’t think I could think of anything worse. Disgusting,” he replied, shaking his head. Fernando fought down a smile as he continued to stare at the ocean. Jenson frequently like to have little digs at the fact that Fernando lived in Dubai. Not maliciously, he just found it strange and liked to tease him about it. “No views like this in Dubai.”

“No, surprisingly there are no sea views in Dubai,” Fernando said, keeping a straight face.

“Don’t get cheeky with me! I meant just…all of this,” he said, waving his arms at everything around them. “What has Dubai got that Monaco doesn’t, hm?”

“Peace and quiet,” Fernando said without a hint of sarcasm.

“…Peace and quiet,” Jenson echoed. “Two and half million people versus what? Fifty thousand? And your answer is 'peace and quiet’.”

Fernando turned to look at Jenson, small smile on his face at Jenson’s incredulous look. Then he just pointed a finger at his temple and repeated it. “Peace and quiet.”

Fernando could tell the moment Jenson twigged on his meaning; a quiet 'ah’ drawing his line of questioning to a close. Fernando had tried the Monaco gig before. It hadn’t worked out. He’d always be running into other drivers or people that knew him as a driver and everything just felt very claustrophobic. Everything felt too work related. Even though the streets of Monaco were almost unrecognisable when used day to day compared to race weekends, it still made him edgy to be there. In Dubai he felt freer. Like he could just be Fernando Alonso, human being instead of Fernando Alonso, F1 driver. And boy, did he need that lately.

Jenson was watching him again and Fernando turned back to him, eyebrow raised waiting for the question he knew Jenson wanted to ask.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Fernando smiled at him. All he’d wanted since testing was to rant and rave about the car and the performance and _his_ performance and the team and pretty much everything. But all of a sudden, he didn’t feel that need anymore. Instead, he was just happy to take a step back from it all.

“No,” he replied, meaning it. “But thank you for asking.”


End file.
